New Girl
by dramaqueen6
Summary: Since he can't have Willow, Oz finds a new girl. Behold the worst piece of Buffy fanfic ever written! (Of course, there are over 1600. Kind of hard to say.) This is my first time as Oz, so don't punish me if I get it wrong.


New Girl  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Oz, unfortunately, or anything relating to BtVS (Buffy, Xander, Willow, Dawn, etc.). Joss Whedon owns them, blah, blah, blah. But I do own this piece of fanfic, Morgan, Lana, Diana, and everyone who isn't in Buffy is mine.  
  
A/N: This is about Oz's life after he left in "New Moon Rising." I'm a Willow/Oz shipper, but I'm basically a huge, very loyal Oz fan. In most fanfics he ends up with Willow, but she chose some dead girl over sweet (still living) Oz! If Oz can't be with Willow he at least deserves to be with someone. (Words surrounded by these ^-^ are thoughts. Words in *-* are italicized.) I'm sorry it's so talky and boring. Tell me what I need to change and I will.  
  
Chapter 1 ~ Morgan ~  
  
Daniel "Oz" Osbourne always fell for girls that (intentionally or not) caused him trouble. Willow, a witch/lesbian, Veruca, a she wolf, - and me.  
  
My name is Morgan. I've been described as smart, compassionate, sensitive, witty, funny, brave, loyal, and pretty, but I've described myself as insecure, eccentric, nervous, and fragile with low self-esteem. But everybody's depiction of himself or herself is always warped, right?  
  
I'm the picture of eccentric genius, except for the fact I'm fairly cool. I'm a walking contradiction. I'll jump out of a plane, but I won't shake my head too hard, for fear of damaging my brain. Criticism destroys me, but I feed off rejection. I'm a compassionate person who knows exactly what people are feeling at the moment, and sometimes it really pisses me off. I'm an outgoing introvert.  
  
Almost my entire life I was deeply depressed, but because I tried to push those feelings away and hide it, no one noticed it. I don't think they cared, either.  
  
Oz and I may not seem like the perfect couple, but the beauty of our relationship is that I'm too emotional to be with someone who is moody, and Oz is not emotional enough to be with someone who is as stoic as he is. We balance each other out. And Oz is very sweet and sensitive, so he never inadvertently hurts me.  
  
I met him at a club called Kitty's in Portland.  
  
I was with my friends Lana and Suzie. They had snuck out that night, and my parents were gone for the weekend. We had a sum fifteen dollars in all our pockets and three fake I.D.s.  
  
We were decked out. I was wearing black leather boots with fishnet stockings, a red, see through top, and a denim skirt. I didn't wear makeup except some mascara and lipstick.  
  
I didn't have a lot of fun, though. I was terrified that my controlling, manipulative, cold father would find out. He mentally and physically abused me.  
  
And I couldn't turn him in. He was only my stepfather, and he still let me live with him after my mother died (pretty much for a maid service, though).  
  
Mine was the ID of a 6'5" middle aged black man. They let blond haired; brown eyed, 5'5", eight teen years old me in anyway.  
  
At 10:04 PM a band called the Drifters was playing. The lyrics were terrible, and the lead singer, - a guy who guy looked like a Viking and with the intelligence of one, too - even worse, but the guy playing guitar playing was stellar, and his singing was good, too.  
  
My best friend, Suzie, giggled. "That guy is checking you out."  
  
She pointed to the guitarist. His hair was brown. He looked to be at most 5'4", with his nails painted black. He was very cute.  
  
"Forget him," Lana muttered. "Look at that hot guy over there."  
  
There was a lean, rough looking brunette with blue eyes that seemed almost soulless, them boring into me.  
  
I blushed. Two cute guys checking my out, in one night!  
  
Once the band was finished, a DJ took over the music, with almost everyone soon on the floor.  
  
I walked up to the bar. "Can I have a coke?" I asked. I didn't like to drink alcohol.  
  
"Four bucks," the bartender said.  
  
I had had eight fifty, minus five-dollar entrance fee, and I had loaned three twenty to Suzie for a beer. "I have twenty cents. What can I get with that?"  
  
"Lost," he replied callously.  
  
"I'll pay for it," I heard someone say. It was the guitarist.  
  
"Thanks," I said. "My name is Morgan."  
  
He nodded. "Oz."  
  
He paid the bartender. We sat down on some bars stools and started to talk.  
  
"You're a great guitarist," I began.  
  
"Thanks," he replied without a smile, although he still seemed welcoming.  
  
"Are you new to Oregon?"  
  
"Yeah," he told me.  
  
"Where are you from?"  
  
"California."  
  
"So, are how long have you been living here?"  
  
He shrugged. "I don't really live anywhere."  
  
"Cool," I murmured. "So you just drift around?"  
  
He nodded. "That's why they call us drifters."  
  
"So, why don't you just settle down in one place?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Settle down where?"  
  
"So the whole band drifts, or just you?"  
  
"I'm a replacement."  
  
I studied him. "Am I boring you?"  
  
He shook his head. "No. I'm naturally this stoic. Inside I'm ecstatic."  
  
I grinned. "So you only smile on the inside instead of the outside?"  
  
He almost smiled, then controlled himself. "Sometimes both."  
  
Suzie came over. "Hey, Morgan, there's a bunch of guys that want to take us to that cool club on Downtown." She shot a look at Oz. "Who are you?"  
  
"Oz."  
  
"What kind of name is that?"  
  
He shrugged. He looked away from her and murmured, "What kind of face is that?"  
  
Suzie touched her warped features. Her nose was too small for her face, her eyes sunken in, and her face so compact it looked like someone had put it under a vise and squished it all together. And the bushy eyebrows didn't help either.  
  
She looked hurt, but she submerged all her pain for later, when she was going to tell me what a bastard she thought he was. "So, are you going?  
  
I looked between them. I didn't want to leave this guy, but I didn't want to dump my friends.  
  
"Do you have a pen?" I asked. "Hey," I asked the bartender. "Can I have pen, please?"  
  
He dropped one on the bar. I grabbed Oz's hand gingerly. Electricity swept through my skin when we touched. I wrote down my number. "Call me."  
  
"I won't have much to say," he said.  
  
"I'll be happy just to hear your voice," I replied.  
  
I smiled at him, then grabbed my jacket and left with Susie. "Thanks for the drink," I told him.  
  
Suzie brought me to three guys. Lana was already flirting with them.  
  
They all had the same soulless eyes. One was the guy who had been staring at me, one blond, and one with hair dyed cherry red. Their looks, stature and build were perfect. Too perfect.  
  
"The brunette is for you," Lana told me. "I have the blond and Suzie has the other one."  
  
"Well," my guy said. "Let's go."  
  
Chapter 2 ~ Oz ~  
  
I watched her from the bar. I liked that girl. Too much. ^Remember what happened with Willow, ^ I reminded myself. Still, I couldn't stop staring at her. She was irresistible. There was just something special about her. My gut did a somersault. ^I hope it isn't 'demon' special. ^  
  
I watched her and her friends talk to a group of guys. I glanced at them. I felt a tremor in my body. Something wasn't right about them.  
  
I got out of my seat. I was going to need some stakes.  
  
Chapter 3 ~ Morgan ~  
  
My guy was named Jack. The one with cherry red hair was Ryan and the blond was Phil.  
  
Jack put an arm around me as all six of us walked down the street. His touch chilled me, even through my leather jacket. I tensed up. He sensed, this, but didn't remove his arm.  
  
"So, baby, what can I do to make you feel better?" I murmured, his words flowing through his mouth like water in a river.  
  
"Get away from me," I retorted.  
  
He scowled.  
  
"What's that bitch's problem?" Ryan muttered.  
  
"God, we got you a guy!" Lana exclaimed. "Look at him." She sighed, aggravated. "There's no pleasing you, is there?"  
  
"*NOW*!" Jack exclaimed all of the sudden.  
  
They threw us in an alley with superhuman strength. We all screamed.  
  
Jack grabbed my hair as he held me still roughly. He smelled me, sighing like he was going to eat me. I was so terrified I could only whimper. I tried to fight back. He held me down and grinned. "This is choice meat, boys."  
  
He shook his head - and like shaking off a human veil, revealed twisted and grotesque features, complete with a set of fangs.  
  
He leaned in to my neck - when Ryan screamed.  
  
There stood Oz, holding a wooden stake submerged into Ryan's chest. He turned into dust and then vanished.  
  
Jack got up and walked toward him, as well as Phil.  
  
Oz tossed a stake to me. "Plunge it into their hearts."  
  
^But, that would kill them, ^ I thought, panicking. ^I can't do that. I can't kill. ^  
  
"Give me that," Phil muttered and ran toward me.  
  
He fell upon me - with my stake pointing up at him. It held him up, until he turned to dust and dissipated into the air.  
  
I leaped up. Two down, one to go.  
  
Oz brought the stake over him - and Jack knocked it out of his hands. He gave Oz one hell of a right hook while he was still thrown off guard, then grabbed him and lifted him over himself. He threw him into the brick wall.  
  
Jack spun around, almost triumphant, distracted by his own ego. I took this chance - and plunged the stake in his heart.  
  
His face was washed with defeat as he twisted into dust and then nothingness.  
  
"Nice dusting," I heard Oz say.  
  
"Thanks," I said, grinning nervously. I went to help him up, but he did well on his own. He brushed some dirt off his arms, as if being thrown at a brick wall was nothing.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice showing traces of concern.  
  
"Yeah," I replied  
  
He brushed my hair away from my neck gently. He touched my neck. My toes curled. "Did they get you?"  
  
I shook my head. "No - wait, you're telling me that they were vampires?!" I asked, my voice drenched in disbelief.  
  
He nodded.  
  
"They were vampires?" Lana shrieked, getting up.  
  
Diana rolled her eyes as she rose. "Yeah, right."  
  
"You saw the fangs," Oz replied.  
  
Diana went up to him, four inches away from his face. She was a hundred times as frightening as those vampires. "What I *saw* was that you killed three guys."  
  
"I killed two," I interjected. I felt my heart slam down my chest. I killed someone. On purpose. And not just one person - two!  
  
"You didn't kill them," Oz said, sensing my guilt. "They're called the Undead. They already died. It's how they become vamps."  
  
"Yeah, *sure*," Diana said sarcastically.  
  
"Then where are the bodies?" Oz asked.  
  
This shut her up.  
  
Oz gave us all a ride back home. I was the last to be dropped off.  
  
He pulled at my house.  
  
There was a silence. "Thanks," I said. "Thanks for everything."  
  
"I'm not good with thank yous," he told me. "I get all red. I have to bolt. It's not pretty."  
  
"Still, I feel like I should give you something."  
  
"You don't need to give me anything."  
  
I sighed. "So are you ever gonna call me?"  
  
"How old are you?" he asked.  
  
"Eighteen."  
  
"I'm twenty five. I'll definitely be calling you."  
  
I got an idea. "Oz, come inside with me. It'll only take a second."  
  
I ran inside. He shrugged and followed me.  
  
I went into my room to get something. I pored through my dresser drawers. The house was fairly dark, with only a few lights on. "Oz!" I called. "I'm in here."  
  
He had just walked in when I found it.  
  
"I know it's really girlie," I began as I held up a necklace with a cross on it. "But I'm never gonna use it, and it might help you with the vampires."  
  
He gave me a full out grin - or at least a full out grin according to Oz.  
  
"Thanks," he said as he placed the necklace on the nightstand. "But I want to give you something else."  
  
"What is it?" I asked, totally in the dark.  
  
In reply, he gently touched his lips to mine. I loved the way he tasted. The kiss got more passionate. He enveloped me with himself, holding me tightly. Thoughts raced through my mind.  
  
^Oh, God, he is the *best* kisser! ^  
  
^What will my friends think? ^  
  
^I've only just met him. ^  
  
^I need to kiss him harder. ^  
  
Soon, the kiss was a full on French kiss. Our tongues explored our mouths. I could feel his heart beat against mine. Oh, what a wonderful feeling. He put a hand on the back of my head as he sat me down on my bed. I leaned back on it, his arms still wrapped around me, as he dug his head into my neck and kissed it passionately. Chills ran up and down my body.  
  
^This is happening too fast. ^ I thought. ^But God, don't make it go away. ^  
  
Oz got off me suddenly. "This is too fast," he said.  
  
We both slowly sat up on my bed, facing each other.  
  
"I'm sorry," Oz began. "I should've let you kiss me first. And even then it shouldn't have been French kissing."  
  
I felt tears well in my eyes. I was taking this the wrong way. "Didn't you like it, Oz?"  
  
"No, no, that's probably the best kiss - or, the best steamy make out I've ever had."  
  
"Then what is it?"  
  
"I just think that things need to go slower." Oz said, wiping away the tears running down my face.  
  
I nodded. "Slower? I'm good with that," I replied.  
  
He leaned back on the bed. I lay in his arms. "Tell me all about yourself, Oz."  
  
Chapter 4 ~ Oz ~  
  
I told Morgan everything. Well, almost everything - the absence three years in a town called Sunnydale, lycanthrope, the Scooby gang, and a certain girl named Willow isn't a lot, is it?  
  
When she asked how I knew they were vampires, I just replied that there were a lot of them were I came from. At least that was true.  
  
She talked about herself, too. Her biological father was an alcoholic, he left them, her parents were divorced, and she had a cruel stepfather who practically tortured her. She told me how she loved to write, and how she wanted to be a writer someday.  
  
I knew I loved her that night. But I didn't tell her  
  
The next few months went by in a blur. We were never apart. She snuck out and came to me on the nights her father had emotionally and/or physically hurt her. It rapidly got worse, until one night I couldn't take it anymore.  
  
I could hear someone come into my house. My body tensed. I sniffed the air, then relaxed. It was Morgan.  
  
I felt her slide into bed with me. She wrapped her arms around me.  
  
I kissed her forehead. We didn't say anything for along time. She put her head against my bare chest. Memories of Willow drifted in and then faded out. I ran my hand through Morgan's soft blond hair.  
  
I felt something trickle down my chest. I turned on the lights, to see Morgan weeping. Even worse, there were bruises all over her face.  
  
"What did he do?" I asked - no, demanded.  
  
She looked away. "I should've stayed out of his way, it's all my fault -"  
  
I got up, and started getting dressed.  
  
I brought her back to her house. "Stay in the car," I instructed. I looked at the black eye she had on her face. I was so furious I wanted to make an expression.  
  
I got out of the car and headed to the door.  
  
"Oz, wait!" she shrieked.  
  
I didn't reply. I burst into the unlocked house.  
  
"Who the hell is it?" I heard a man mutter.  
  
My body grew tense with anger. I had spent a year in Tibet with monks, all to throw it away with not calming myself.  
  
"Hey. Who are you?" a man who was a foot taller than me asked and looking not exactly furious asked.  
  
I reminded myself that from what Morgan told me, this man seemed charming, but like most domestic abusers he hid all his anger for his family.  
  
"Oz," he answered.  
  
"Bill Carver," he replied. "How can I help ya?"  
  
"Sorry about being forward, but you need to treat Morgan better."  
  
Bill's facial expressions tightened. He had filled himself with anger, but it was overloaded. "Exactly who are you to her?" he demanded.  
  
"I love her," I replied.  
  
I fairly expected what would happen next. Bill cackled. Like the Wicked Witch of the West. "Oh, that's funny."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"A short little boy named Oz likes that pathetic bitch!" He was practically bent over with laughter.  
  
"Don't call her that," I warned. Memory washed over me. This was almost the same thing I told Veruca before I killed her. I felt my muscles tense up. I couldn't kill. Not again. It would be too easy for the resurface from the pit of anger.  
  
"What're you gonna do?" Bill asked, getting up in my face, belligerent. "If you turn me in, she'll have no where to go. And what if some coke just *found* it's way in her things? She would get arrested. No one would care what I did to her. So what're you gonna do?"  
  
I felt hair rise up my legs, arms, back, and chest. It flowed up my neck and face as I spoke. "Kill you," I replied, my voice contorted and dark.  
  
I couldn't control myself after that. He screamed as I went from Oz to Werewolf Oz.  
  
I fell upon him, slashing his chest and arms. His screams annoyed me. I brought my arm up, swung, and tore off his head.  
  
He was silent. Dead. Now the feeding would begin.  
  
Then I heard a scream.  
  
Werewolf Oz simmered to the depths of my soul, as normal Oz surfaced. The hair fell back into my body, and my face shifted into its normal structure. My clothes were torn nearly to shreds, but thankfully covering everything private.  
  
My neck snapped behind me, to see Morgan in a corner, trembling.  
  
"Morgan!" I said, surprisingly emotional for me.  
  
She whimpered. "What did you do?"  
  
I realized I was crouching on her dead stepfather's abdomen. "I - I couldn't control my self," I replied, at loss of words to say.  
  
I slowly got up.  
  
Morgan panicked and backed up against a wall.  
  
I reached out to her. "I'm not gonna hurt you."  
  
"Sure as hell you're not!" she replied, quickly slipping out the door and running outside.  
  
I opened the door; ready to chase after her, make her listen, but I realized it was over. What I did was unforgivable.  
  
I went out the back door, stepping over the corpse. I crossed through the yard to the neighbor's clothesline.  
  
I took off some clothes, and changed into them under a tree.  
  
I went back to my van. I got inside and heard, "So what are you?"  
  
It was Morgan.  
  
I was too ashamed to even look at her. "I'm sorry."  
  
"What the *hell* are you?" she demanded again.  
  
"A werewolf."  
  
"Details, please."  
  
He sighed. "My cousin Jordy bit me. He's a werewolf, and so I'm a werewolf. Giles sent me to -"  
  
"Who's Giles?"  
  
I sighed. "I spent three years in Sunnydale, California, where I got bit. Sunnydale has a Hellmouth, the opening of Hell, where all the evil demons and vampires and whatever evil comes out. A girl named Buffy, with the title Buffy the Vampire Slayer, had a job to kill whatever evil threatened Sunnydale and basically the world. She had two best friends, Willow and Xander. Willow is a witch, and Xander is normal. Giles is Buffy's Watcher, who trains her with the killing of vamps and such. He's also a librarian at the high school we went to. I first saw Willow at this dance at the Bronze, this place we went to. I went out with her a little later. She became my girlfriend, and the girl I loved, thus I had to become a member of the Scooby gang, people who are involved with anyone in Buffy's group. For three years we prevented an Apocalypse, well, at least put it off. Meanwhile, Willow and I were very serious. We even consummated the relationship. We were pretty happy, until I met a female werewolf, named Veruca. There was something about a she wolf, something that drew me in. So, I cheated on Willow. But Veruca did more to ruin our relationship. It used to be, every full moon, three nights a month; I lock myself up, so when I transform, I don't kill anyone. But Veruca didn't bother. She let herself free to run wild, free to kill. She told me I would slowly become a werewolf all the time. I denied it, but when she tried to kill Willow, I got so angry I couldn't control myself. I transformed, and, well, killed Veruca. I realized then that it wasn't safe for me to stay around Willow. I told her I had to leave. I told her, 'the wolf is inside me all the time, and until I know what that means, I can't be with you.'"  
  
"So," Morgan asked. "Did you find out what it meant?"  
  
I finally looked at her in eye. "Giles sent me to monks in Tibet. They taught me to control myself. But still, the wolf resurfaces when I'm angry or frightened. Like with your father. Anyway, I returned, to find Willow was interested anymore."  
  
Morgan looked at me sympathetically. "In the arms of another man, eh?"  
  
"In the arms of another woman," I corrected. "She turned out to be lesbian, and fell for this other girl. She had to choose me or her, and she chose her."  
  
Morgan put a hand on my cheek. Chills of pleasure ran through me. I loved it when she touched me, even in small ways like that. "I'm sorry Oz," she said.  
  
I cocked up an eyebrow. "Why should you feel sorry for me? I found you." I sighed. "But, I'm too dangerous for you to be with."  
  
"No, you aren't!" she protested. "Listen, you said that you might transform if you were angry or frightened, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"Well, do I make you angry?"  
  
"No . . ."  
  
"Do I scare you?"  
  
"You don't. Fear of screwing up does."  
  
"You don't have to worry about that. You could never screw up with me."  
  
"What about tearing your father's head off?"  
  
"Okay. That's pretty screwed up. But I forgive you. And, it's kind of sweet in a weird way. I came in and heard him talking shit about me, and you couldn't stand that."  
  
"It's just too dangerous," I said firmly.  
  
She sighed, then a grin spread across her face. "Oz, who will protect me if you don't?"  
  
She got me there. I had just killed her father. Where was she going to live? I mean, I could probably shield her from my wolf side for a little while, but who would protect her if I didn't? She had no place to go. And if she stayed, she would probably be suspected of murder, even though it was tough for a person to rip a man's head off with a single swipe.  
  
With that, I started the van, and we left.  
  
Chapter 5 ~ Morgan ~  
  
Oz and I spent most of time going from motel to motel. He usually found a job for a day or night and then we left in the morning. I was perfectly happy with this arrangement.  
  
One day, we got the call.  
  
Oz was on the creaky motel bed, putting on his shoes for his job - o' - the - day.  
  
I sat down behind him and wrapped my arms around him. I gave him a kiss on the neck. "Gonna miss me at work?" I murmured.  
  
"Always do," he replied. He turned his head and kissed me gently.  
  
I leaned back, my face shifting from teasing into solemn. "Oz, are you ever going to say it?"  
  
"Say what?"  
  
"That you love me." I sighed. "Is this just a temporary thing that you're gonna walk away from when we're finished?"  
  
He shook his head. "If that was true, I would've screwed you, and stolen your clothes."  
  
"But will you ever say it?"  
  
"Why do I have to say it?"  
  
"To show me that you love me."  
  
"That's what actions are for."  
  
I took my arms off of him. "Well maybe if I have to fight you this much, you don't love me!"  
  
I got off the bed and furious, I stalked into the bathroom.  
  
I sat down on he ledge of the tub. I could hear Oz get off the bed and come to the door. "Don't do this," he protested, his voice flowing stoic, though.  
  
Then the phone rang.  
  
Chapter 6 ~ Oz ~  
  
I went to the phone and picked it up.  
  
"Oz, are you there?"  
  
"Depends. Who is this?"  
  
"Xander."  
  
I felt my heart stop. "Has something happened to Willow?"  
  
"Can't say," Xander muttered.  
  
"What is it?" I nearly demanded as I heard Morgan come into the room.  
  
"You need to come to Sunnydale. You're in San Francisco right now. Its one hell of a long drive, but at least you're in the same state."  
  
"How do you know where I am?" I asked.  
  
"You left a paper trail. And hey, who's the other person who always shares a room with you? Is it the same girl or a different one everytime?"  
  
"Different one," I said sarcastically. "Lots of meaningless sex."  
  
"Cool," Xander began. "Are they groupies -"  
  
"I'm on my way," I broke him off.  
  
I hung up and I grabbed my jacket. I handed Morgan hers.  
  
"Where are we going?" she asked.  
  
"Sunnydale," I replied. 


End file.
